Zeta Squadron's mishap
by Prometheus-Pegasus
Summary: A group of Alliance pilots is nearly wiped out in a botched assault on am Imperial complex. Stranded on a far-flung planet, three survivors must reach a friendly unit before time runs out.


Dramatis Personae: Jon (human male)

Garen (human male)

Jessa (human female)

"Zeta 3 to all call signs, can anyone hear me?", I wheezed into my comlink. Thick, black smoke billowed out of the smoldering wreckage of my X-wing, causing me to gag on its acrid stench. I had gone down in a clearing, several klicks south of the intended target, an Imperial shipyard out in the middle of nowhere. "The plan's simple." I could remember my squadron leader's words, clear as day, before we went on this endeavor."We get in, blow up their communications array, pick off any armor they might have, and head home. Our company on the ground will take care of the rest." Of course, I tried to reason with both him and Command about this, but no one ever listens to me. "It's a shipyard, for heaven's sake.", I said. "TIE interceptors will be on us the instant we get in range of their scanners." I told them this was a job for at least THREE squadrons, but they sent me away with the standard; "You worry too much, Jon." But I couldn't have been more correct. Not even 30 seconds after we dropped below the clouds, a swarm of Imperial Interceptors was on us. They had us outnumbered two to one. We never stood a chance. The next thing I knew, I was hurdling towards the ground faster than I thought possible. I yanked back on the stick as hard as I could, in an effort to keep the craft from auguring straight into the ground. Thankfully, I managed to keep the X-wing fairly level when it hit the dirt to prevent it from flipping end over end and potentially killing me. So there I stood, in a clearing, looking like an idiot, flight-suit covered in fuel, several feet away from a once-great, burning X-wing. At least it wasn't raining.

I had been walking for about an hour. My best bet was to continue in the general direction of the objective. The company of Alliance ground troops was waiting about one klick south of the shipyard. They were ordered to wait until Zeta Squadron reported in that the enemy comms array had been destroyed and the area had been cleared of heavy armor. Considering the events that had transpired, they would be waiting for quite some time. I gave up on contacting the rest of my squadron. If I didn't get a response the first ten times, they were either dead, captured, or out too far away for the handheld comlink. My supplies were fairly decent. Four days concentrated emergency rations, an assortment of antibiotics, pain killers, and even sleep-aids. I didn't figure I'd need any of it unless I got lost, but I wasn't letting go of it anytime soon. I stopped for a moment under a tree to rest and take in my surroundings. The area was temperate and heavily forested. I could hear birdsong high up in the canopy. Undoing my flight-suit halfway, I let the torso-portion hang off, leaving the OD green A-shirt on underneath. I sank down with a sigh, back against the tree. It felt good just to sit for a moment.

Since I had spent the past three years or so in the Alliance starfighter corps, most of my time was taken up either in the massive hangers of Mon Calamari cruisers, in the cramped quarters of friendly barracks or in the cockpit of my X-wing. I never took for granted any opportunity I had to be out in nature. Growing up on Corulag, I was always fond of the outdoors. Just being surrounded by living things in all their complexities. The smell of the freshness after it rains. The sight of those thin rays of sunlight that peek through the treetops in the early hours of the morning. The feel of soft, moist sand between my toes. To me, one of the most beautiful sights in all the galaxy was the bamboo forests of Corulag, as seen from the sky. That's part of the reason why I learned to fly airspeeders from a young age. I quickly shook these thoughts away, though. Reminiscing about days gone by was not going to get me off this planet.

It was getting dark. I had pressed on for about two more hours with no sign of any friendly troops or survivors from my squadron. I had the urge to stop and take a water break, when a familiar smell wrought itself upon my nostrils. "Wood-smoke.", I said, barley to myself. I took off in the direction of the scent. They have to be friendly, I thought to myself. There's no reason stormtroopers would be burning a wood fire. After about a minute, I reached what could only be described as a trench. The large depression had probably been made by water erosion, seeing as it was too far-out from anything to be manmade irrigation. A large fallen tree lay across the width of the trench, and sitting cross-legged slightly under the tree, were two Alliance pilots, downed members of Zeta Squadron! Elated, I slid down the crumbling dirt; one leg bent underneath the other and called out to them. "Zeta Squadron?" One of the pilots, a stout, blonde male, looked up at me, his grin a mixture of surprise and excitement. "Jon, holy kriff, we figured you'd bought the farm!" He ran, or rather charged, at me and glomped me with a force that would put most wookies to shame.

"Ahk, nice to see you too, Garen.", I managed to choke out through his compacting squeeze. He let me go (I then realized he had been holding me a full three inches off the ground) and I collected myself and gestured towards the fire. "You should really put that fire out.", I said. "I could smell the wood smoke a good ways from here, and if I could, the Imperials could as well."

"You're probably right.", the other pilot said in a hushed tone. "Good to see you're still in one piece, Jessa". Jessa rose, hesitantly, as if wary of enemy snipers in the distance. That may not have been an irrational concern at the time. "Likewise", she agreed. Garen, I had known since we were both teenagers back on Corulag. He and I were the same age, the key difference being Garen was twice my size. He wasn't someone you'd want to piss off, either. He was very hot-headed and had gotten into many-a-fight while we were younger. Garen and I shared a passion for adventure, and in our adolescent years, we could often be found whooping and hollering out in the woods, throwing things at small animals, and speaking of the unspeakable pertaining to girls we knew. As for Jessa, she and I had met shortly after I joined the Starfighter corps. Jessa, to put it simply was… sporadic. You could have a long winded conversation with her about politics, philosophy, religion, you name it, and she could somehow end up bringing the conversation to killing people with various types of incendiary ordinance. In her more sensible mood, however, she was very philosophical, literate, and scientifically inclined.

I remember the conversation the first time she and I met. Something having to do with biology and the probability of life in the galaxy originating via panspermia. Yes, Jessa was an interesting character indeed.

Garen strode over to the fire and hurriedly pushed some dirt onto it with his foot. "Well then", he muttered, "What do you suppose we do now?" "Did anyone else make it?", I asked. "I highly doubt it. Jessa and I were almost on opposite ends of the formation, and we couldn't see much but laser fire and explosions."

"Well, if we are the only ones left, we shouldn't stay here", Jessa put in, brushing a messy ringlet of dirty-blonde hair from her face. "The Imperials are bound to be sending out scout troopers to search for any survivors."

"You got to remember, there is an entire company of friendly forces waiting to attack the shipyard", I said. "We should try and get to them." "If we're gonna do that, then we better start moving now", Jessa said. "What I heard from Zeta Leader was that if we didn't report in after a certain number of hours, to commence the assault anyway. Better to get to them now while they're not busy."

"Well then what are we waiting for", Garen burst, "Let's move out."

This world had a much shorter day than I was accustomed to. Darkness fell fairly quickly. They say the dark plays tricks on your mind. Apparently, that is especially true when you're stumbling around in a forest, where any one of those strange silhouettes could be anything from your worst imaginary fright; to an Imperial scout trooper ready to kill you the instant he catches sight of you. We were all carrying flashlights, but we dare not use them. Those Imperial scouts were well trained, the best sharpshooters in all the army. The slightest hint of an enemy, a rustle of a bush, a flickering light, a quantum shift in the position of a shadow, and the average one could put a sniper shot right between your eyes at 1,000 yards. The top shots could send a well placed blaster bolt straight through the rear engine of a moving X-wing, and make the whole craft drop like a lead weight right out of the sky.

That fear, that primordial human fear of what you cannot see, that has been engrained in our psyche since the dawn of the species, can't be overcome, not even by the most hardened of soldiers. And we were definitely not the most hardened of soldiers.

We kept in very close proximity to one another. It would be very easy to lose someone in this kind of dark. I took every step ever-so-cautiously so as not to step on anything. Aside from sticks and branches that break with a loud snap when trod upon, who knows what kind of animals might inhabit these woods at night. No matter what planet, moon, or star system you live in, nothing that's alive will be happy if you step on it. For the most infinitesimal fraction of a second, there was a glint in the distance. For a moment, I thought it had only been my imagination. Then, the still silence of the night was replaced by the heavy, hollow thud of a body hitting the ground.


End file.
